


Code Name Eden

by RembrandtsWife



Series: Code Name Fanfic [5]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Background Poly, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fellatio, Gardens & Gardening, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 16:19:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1556594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RembrandtsWife/pseuds/RembrandtsWife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lot of intelligence work consists of merely standing around at dull parties. But the champagne is good, and so is Moneypenny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Code Name Eden

**Author's Note:**

> I think this is the next-to-last story in this series. I know something about the final story, but I don't know when it will get written. Hopefully before the next Craig!Bond movie. *g* Nookienostradamus is, as always, a treasure.

"Is it just me," Eve murmured, "or is this party really quite dull?"

Bond smiled as if she'd just said something very amusing. "In the long series of dull parties I've had to attend in my line of work, this one… may just be the dullest." He sipped his champagne. At least that was very good.

Eve was very good tonight, too: Purple gown, tasteful jewelry, perfectly poised. A swan in a room full of peahens wearing the cocks' feathers. No awkward touches to her ear, no awkward moments to betray their cover as husband and wife. She answered questions about their marriage with true stories slightly edited or with lies so plausible it was easy to nod and remember the details later. It occurred to him that Eve, at this point, probably did know more about him than most of his colleagues ever had. He had told her, and Q, together, stories he had never thought to tell anyone else.

He shied away from that thought with the force of long habit and moved toward a sudden flow of cool air. Eve followed, her face brightening as the air touched it. Someone had finally opened the French doors, and people were beginning to move out onto the terrace.

Bond left his glass on a tray and curled his hand around Eve's warm, slim arm, drawing her away from the house and into the surprisingly cool evening. The sun had set not that long ago, and the scent of flowers--roses, and orange blossoms, and other smells he couldn't identify--still hung richly in the air and mixed with Eve's perfume. 

She smiled at him through the dusk, a gleam of teeth, a glint of eyes, a sparkle of moonlight on her long earrings, formed of multiple dangling strands like falling rain.

"Do you really think we'll learn anything useful tonight?"

"No." Bond took a deep breath of the night air. "But the champagne was very good."

Eve glanced out over the gardens, which fell away in terraces artfully landscaped to look ruggedly natural. "Pity we couldn't have seen the gardens while it was still light. Even if they're as overdone as the house, there's no such thing as too many flowers."

Bond grinned. "Well, we still can see them, after a fashion--" 

Turning his back on another couple passing nearby, he flicked a tiny torch into his palm, turned it off, turned it on. "Come on."

Giggling, Eve took his arm and went with him down the shallow red-brick steps. Tiny lanterns illuminated the descent at first, glowing with the collected sunlight of the day. But they needed the extra light of the torch as they passed under the low-hanging jacarandas and palos borrachos.

"So have you seduced Mallory yet?"

Eve paused near a bench and gave him a girlish swat. "Mr. Bond! A lady never kisses and tells."

"Neither does a gentleman, but he's been eating you up with his eyes."

Eve's mouth opened and closed. "Has anyone else noticed?"

"Calm down." He sat down on the bench, spreading his arms along the back and letting his muscles relax a bit. "Nothing you'd notice if you weren't looking for it. Anyone else might see a superior lusting after a subordinate but honorably restraining himself."

"Oh, he knows how to restrain himself, all right…." She laughed out loud at Bond's cocked eyebrow and laid a hand on his face. "James. It doesn't mean the end of our… arrangement, you know. You and me and Q. Mallory and I are strictly business."

He scanned her face, her body language, professionally, before he could tell himself not to. Too much training, too much caution. "He wants you to succeed him as M. Or succeed his successor."

"Yes."

Bond wished for more champagne, a martini, or best of all, simply a glass of cold water. But he nodded. "I think that's what she wanted, too."

Eve didn't have to ask who "she" was. Even now, her name was sacrosanct to much of MI6. Mallory might be "M" when Bond addressed him, but he was still "Mallory" the rest of the time.

"You loved her, didn't you."

It was a statement, not a question, but to Bond, it was a question. It was a fucking Zen koan, the sound of one hand clapping, his face before he was born. Had he loved M? Did he love M? How had he loved her? Had Tiago Rodriguez loved M? Had James Bond loved Vesper Lynd?

He'd never been any good at koans, so he got up and began walking, deeper into the gardens, deeper into the night.

Eve followed, silent except for the light tap-tap of her heels on the steps. Bond flicked on the torch again, swinging the narrow beam from side to side. Hearing the sound of running water, he stopped. Inhaled the sweetness of it. Eve drew up beside him, took the torch from his hand, and switched it off.

The darkness wrapped around him like a cloak, a hood over his vision, binding his limbs. He tensed, but Eve's hands running up his arms, Eve's lips finding his, were familiar, trustworthy. He gathered her body against his in the dark and responded to the kiss, hearing only the sounds of his breathing and hers, and the sweet burbling rhythm of the water.

Her lips stayed with his while her hands wandered, belt, waist, fly, buttons. He drank from her mouth and let her open up a way into his most vulnerable spot, peeling back layers of formal dress to expose belly and crotch. Her nails skimmed down the line of hair from his navel to his pubes; deft fingers pulled out his thickening cock.

Eve pulled her mouth away. "James, James."

A tiny rustle of fabric was his only clue before her mouth took hold of his prick. He clamped his teeth on a moan; her tongue teased the head, her fingers coaxed back his foreskin, and then she took him deep, sucking mercilessly until he was fully hard.

He had to groan aloud then. "James. James, it's all right." It wasn't right, somehow. It was one thing to have sex with her, or Q, off-duty, in a flat, he didn't have a home but Q did, Eve did, she shouldn't be on her knees shoving her mouth down on his prick--

He pulled away from her, stumbling, swallowed his reaction to the cool air suddenly on his wet cock. The light of the torch came back, aimed into his face; he growled in self-defense. Moneypenny's face, baffled, anxious, caught the last moonlight as she moved toward him again.

"James, what is it--"

"Not right," he growled, shaking his head. His eyes dropped to the ground; they were standing on flat smooth stones fitted together, one of many little terraces. He sank to his knees and reached for Eve.

"Come down, come on, come down."

She knelt before him, still baffled. He took the torch and laid it aside, the beam pointing away. His hands guided her to the cool stones, on her back, pushed up the long gown to expose her sleek bare legs, pushed it up further to grope past the tiny gun holstered on her thigh and find her panties, a thong, a mere scrap of fabric that felt like it would dissolve under his fingers, and then he was on his belly, his tongue pushed into her cunt.

She was moist and salty and hot, and her hips bucked hard as he flicked over her clit. Yes, this, this was right. Bond cupped his hands under her arse, between her and the stones, lifting her up to his mouth. He rubbed his face in her cunt, no finesse, delved his tongue between her folds and as deep into her hole as he could go, smelling and tasting and not thinking, not remembering--

Eve was panting and gasping, making smothered cries behind her hands. Bond shifted, lifting his bare prick off the ground, coming to his knees and drawing Eve with him, sealed to his mouth. Her whole back was arched, only her shoulders touching the stones. The stones were probably shredding his clothes and hers. He only wanted to eat her cunt, for there to be nothing in this moment but his mouth and this woman and her pleasure.

A cry that was too loud to smother, a tremor that ran through her strong splendid legs--he knew that was her orgasm, felt it working through her. Gently he lowered her till she was lying flat again, safe, then staggered to his feet and away, coming to a stop with one hand resting on a tree. Smell of wet earth, running water, flowers in the night. He grasped his still-hard cock and worked it until he added the smell of semen to the melange.

He stood there, shaking, until Eve put her arms around him. "Bond. Let's go back to the hotel. If we can find a way out of this garden."

She took the torch and he followed her lead.


End file.
